The Doctor and the Detective
by Shipsinthenight13
Summary: Amy Rory and the Doctor all find themselves trapped in a seemingly regular parallel universe. The trio soon finds themselves within the company of one Sherlock Holmes and John Watson. The two teams must join forces without Sherlock finding out team TARDIS's secret. Will they be able to defeat the Angels? Will Amy and Rory make it back home in time? Find out now! (First Story, btw)
1. Chapter 1

The Doctor and the Detective

Chapter One

My hand brushed against the park bench as I breathed in the afternoon air. _London!_ The city air smelled sweetly of food and cars with the faint stench of cigarette smoke. I rested my head in the crook of my husband's neck, my red hair sticky with the sweat of the hot afternoon.

"You know," I tell him happily, "I could get used to this." He laughed and wrapped his arm around my body.

"London, eh?" Rory laughed and kissed me on the head. It was a perfect day, the wind was softly blowing and the birds tweeted quietly, the sound dulled by the light conversation of the people in the park. There was a flawless sense of beauty in the air a beauty that couldn't be broken even by-

"Oi! Amy, Rory! What are doing?" A overly cheery voice called.

"Sitting, Doctor," Rory called back, trying to hide the annoyance in his voice.

"Well what in the devil are you doing that for?" he cried, obliviously. I roll my eyes and stand up, holding my hand out for Rory.

"Come on," I say sighing, "What did you find Doctor?"

The Doctor cleared his throat as if preparing for a gargantuan speech, "Well, for starters, we're in a parallel universe. That much is obvious."

"Wait, what?" Rory said, dumbfounded.

"You mean… this isn't the real London?" I ask.

"Oh this most definitely is the real London, just not the London you know. There are hundreds of different London's. Thousands. All of which exist inside worlds that parall others. Some words are completely different, like for example there might be a parallel world where Hitler won World War Two. Or another where dragons had dominated the world and used humans has their slaves! I've really only been to a few parallel universes. They're tricky business. If you stay in one for two long you might just as well rip a hole in the universe. I have a good friend who got trapped in a parallel universe. She lives there now, totally happy. Anyway… This parallel universe seems to be pretty much the same as the one you live in. Only problem- we're trapped here. With the Angels."

"What!?" I cried, outraged, "Trapped! We can't be trapped!"

"Yes, yes we can." He responded, "This universe is rather unstable, if I do say so myself. A, sort of, um, let's call it a breech. Yes, so this breech, it opens for a few hours every month or so. The Angels got in ahead of us. They've been here for about a month. This London has probably been experiencing disappearances, people vanishing out of thin air. the TARDIS was able to get in twenty eight days after they arrived but it's too late to go back. So you might as well get comfortable, Ponds-"

"Williams," Rory muttered.

"Because I think I got us a flat!"

"Oh, really," I laughed. "You. In a flat. Like that's gonna happen."

"Oh it is," He says, giving me his best dopey smile, "221a, Baker Street."


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter Two

My hand thunks on the big wooden door three times before I let it drop. "This is such a bad idea," I half whisper to Rory and the Doctor.

"No it's not, it's a splendid idea. Fabulous. Extravagant. And just a tiny bit sexy." The Doctor gives me a sly wink. I roll my eyes. The door to the apartment opened and a small, elderly lady with bright eyes and an annoyed smile comes into view.

"Hi," I tell her, "I'm Amy, this is Rory and, um…

"John Smith," The Doctor said, "Doctor John Smith."

"Right," I say awkwardly, "We're here to, um, rent the apartment. 211a? Are you the landlady?"

The woman laughed, "Indeed. I'm Mrs. Hudson." She reaches out to shake my hand and I happily oblige. "Come in."

We follow her through the door as she tells us about the flat. "The couple that used to live here, well they are off on a three month trip to Africa. I guess they need a break from the neighbors. How long will you be staying, dear?"

"Uh, just a month," I murmur.

"Right, well, the whole place is furnished, couches, tables, everything. Though, there are only two beds…"

"Oh, um, we're married," Rory said awkwardly pointing at me.

"Oh, of course dear," Mrs. Hudson said winking, "So...What do you think?"

I looked at Rory and Rory looked at me. We both turned to the Doctor at the exact moment he yelled, "We'll take it!" Rory and I both glared at him. "What," he said defensively, "Isn't that what people say when they want something? We'll take it? We took it? We've taken it? Tenses are hard-"

"Doctor," I say through clenched teeth, "Shut up."

"Oh don't worry," Mrs. Hudson said giving us a bright smile, "I've seen much stranger things than him, dearie."

"Unlikely," Rory muttered.

"Now, it's very likely that you might hear some loud noise, probably a banging, or a gunshot, but don't worry it's just the boys next door. They work with the police, trust me, it's completely legal. Well for the most part…"

"They work with the police?" I say eying Mrs. Hudson, "Tell me, have there been any recent disappearances?"

"Oh yes, I believe so. Sherlock's been going on and on about it. He doesn't have a clue on what's going on. I think he might be going a little mad, to be honest. Why do you ask?"

"Oh, you know us," Rory responded awkwardly, "We're all just really into detective work and… stuff like that."

"Oh. Well then, I'm sure you will get along great with my boys." She winks again. We all exchange some awkward smiles and glances until Mrs. Hudson says, "Right, then I'll leave you to it." And leaves.

"Good, good, this is good." Rory says pacing around the room after Mrs. Hudson closed the door. "We're in London, we've got an adventure on our hands and we landed ourselves a flat right across from a possible ally."

I glance up at him, "So… now what?"

"Now," the Doctor says wagging his finger in front of my face, "We go meet our neighbors."


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter Three

My feet pound the stairs with a strangely eager speed. I give a quick knock, not waiting for the boys to catch up to me. The door opens with a thud, followed by the face of a stout man with sandy hair and dark eyes. "Hello?" he said quietly.

"Hi," I say, cocking my head to the side and giving him my brightest smile. "I'm Amy. I-I just moved into the flat next door."

The man pulls his cheeks up into a forced half smile and shakes my hand, "I'm John, uh, John Watson."

"Oh, like from that one book about the detective."

"Um...right." John said, clearly not knowing what I was talking about. _Great, I'd only just met the guy and he already didn't like me_. This was not going well. Suddenly a loud thunk sounded from behind us.

"John… I think I might have just broke that vase you really like." I deep voice said from inside.

"The blue one?" John asks, sounding more pissed off than before.

"Yeah, the blue one. Now who's at the door?" Rory and the Doctor walk up behind me at the same time as the man from inside the flat comes up next to John. _Wow_ , I thought as he came up next to me. He was probably one of the prettiest people I had ever seen. He had curly brown hair with startling eyes and the handsomest cheekbones in the entire world. He was wearing a dark jacket and a pristine blue scarf that complimented him greatly. _Amy, you're married_ I tell myself. _But he's so pretty_ my brain responded. _You have Rory_ I shot back. _Look at those cheekbones!_ My brain fired.

"Hmmm… Well this is simple," John's flatmate said, "All three of you travel together, but the Redhead and Bowtie have known each other much longer than the Nurse has. Not that Redhead and Nurse haven't know each other for very long, they're childhood friends. They've been married for a few years now. Oh and you have a kid. Daughter, I think. But, Nurse still feels threatened by Bowtie and worries that Redhead is out of his league, which is totally true, but she loves you anyway. Well except for the fact that she was just checking me out.

"Now, Bowtie, you're married to a woman who I could guess is or was in prison. You love her very much but cannot always connect with her. And, you have indeed kissed Redhead but in all fairness she kissed you and it was before either of you were even married. But Nurse still is paranoid about you and here, which is rather stupid. Another funny thing about Nurse is that he is a fighter. I know, I wouldn't believe it either. Some sort of Roman style of fighting. Quite interesting. So, Redhead, you grew up, for the most part, without your parents and were constantly teased. I would go so far to guess they called you crazy. But, you weren't crazy. No, no, you were right. Nowadays, you're doing some modeling jobs and also some writing, though really who knows how long that will last.

"Back to Bowtie. Oh Bowtie, Bowtie, Bowtie. You are a piece of work. You are most clearly a traveler, the leader of all you're expeditions. But you spend more time than you should trying to cover up who you really are deep down. Hmm, there is a lot you are covering up…" His voice grew soft, "You know so much more than you should." He blinked as if coming out of a trance, voice growing loud again. "Anyway, that should sort out any sort of trouble, you are having between the three of you, though I really don't see what so wrong you had to bother me. Next!"

"They aren't customers, they're are neighbors," John said, sounding tired.

The flatmate raised an eyebrow. "Oh, you the ones renting out 221a? Why on earth would you do that? You're travelers. You would never rent a flat. So what are you doing here?"

"Well initially we came here to introduce ourselves." I muttered. "I'm Amy, not Redhead, and this is Rory and the Doctor, uh, Doctor Smith. But just call him Doctor, it's um, easier."

"That man is neither a Doctor or has the surname of Smith."

"Hold on," Rory said, interrupting him, "How did you know all that stuff?"

"I'm a detective," he responded.

"No, that goes beyond 'detective.' Who are you?"

The man rolled his eyes and placed his hands on his hips. "The name's Sherlock. Sherlock Holmes."


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter Four

"Sherlock Holmes?" I said, "Now I've heard a lot of crazy but-"

"Ssshhhh, Amy." The Doctor uttered, his lips forming the words slowly as if dealing with something delicate, fragile. "Mr. Holmes we would like to talk to you about the, ah, disappearances."

"The disappearances?" John says looking intrigued, "And who are _you_ to want to know anything about these disappearances, Mr. Bowtie."

"I," He responded, smiling, "Am the Doctor."

John threw a nervous glance to Sherlock, who quietly responded, "He's not lying."

"Of course I'm not," The Doctor said, cheerily, "I never lie-"

"Lier." Sherlock muttered.

"I _almost_ never lie," The Doctor retorted, keeping a smile I knew was fake.

"But the question remains, _Doctor_ , what do you want to know about the disappearances." Sherlock, responded sounding tired and just a tad bit intrigued.

The Doctor scratches his head, "Well, um, a few things-"

"Well, I must warn you in advance, we barely know anything about them," John said.

"Well, all I need to know is the location."

"What?" Sherlock asked, "Why would you need to know that? They all took place at different sites, and the...the police they have scoured every inch and...and found nothing. There is nothing there!"

"I would assume not, but do tell, is there a place where most of these people of vanished from? A sort of center?" The Doctor asked.

"B...Bu...Wh...What?" Sherlock said his head whipping between the Doctor and John. "It's...ahh-"

"Highgate Cemetery." John said looking at his feet. "They all seem to be centered around Highgate Cemetery."

"Great, thank you, kudos!" The Doctor said his face widening.

"Right…" Rory said, "Well, we best be off, um, thank you."

"Wait!" John said, as we start to walk away.

"Yes?" I say.

"You can't just leave!"

"Yes. Yes they can," Sherlock said, "But we're coming with you."

"Oh. No, no, I don't think that's a very good idea." Rory said rubbing the back of his neck.

"Well, we do work with the police, so unless you feel like being arrested today, I suggest you let us come with you."

The Doctor opened his mouth to say something but I stopped him by saying, "Fine. Fine, you can come with us. We'll see you outside in five minutes. But first," I turn to Rory and the Doctor and look them square in the eye, "I think I left something in the flat."


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter Five

"How is this possible?" I ask, "That was Sherlock Holmes! B...But, it wasn't Sherlock Holmes! It couldn't have been. I...I mean Sherlock Holmes is set in 1891, right? And even if it is Sherlock Holmes who somehow magically zapped himself into the early 21st century, SHERLOCK HOLMES IS FICTIONAL!" We were back in the flat, looking at the clock, all thinking about how much time we had until we had to leave to go see Sherlock Holmes.

"Parallel world," The Doctor said quietly, his eyes staring off into space, "Anything could have happen. Somehow, Sir Arthur Conan Doyle's characters are real in this parallel world. Or Sir Arthur Conan Doyle visited this world and wrote about the characters just in his own time. I don't know how it's possible, but," He shrugged, "Somehow it is."

"So what do we?" Rory asked.

"We cooperate." The Doctor responds, "I don't know if you heard him, but I'd, well, I'd rather not like to spend the month in jail."

"So, we're gonna go battle a bunch of Angels with the help of Sherlock Holmes," I say.

"Yep, that about sums it up."

I scratch the back of my head, "So… how do we stop the Angels?

"Ahh, to stop the Weeping Angel," The Doctor said, starting to pace the room, "There are a few ways that I _know_ of. First, we could starve it to death. That would only, of course, happen if they weren't able to feed on anyone's time energy for hundreds of years, thousands even. And in a city this big that is totally out of the question. Another way would be to create some sort of time paradox. But where would get our hands on a time paradox?" He crained his head to stare at us and gave us a wacky little smile. "And really, _you_ guys? Creating a time paradox? That is highly unlikely." He shook his head and sat down, "We could quantum lock it by making it stare into a mirror, but at this point the Angels might have turned at least one-fourth of the statues in London into their kind. It would be impossible to defeat them using their reflection.

"I have heard of one way…" The Doctor looked up at us nervously, "Well, it's definitely going to dangerous. And it will take time. But, I suppose we don't have any other options."

I glued my eyes to his, "What do we have to do?"

He sighed. "We going to have to construct this, well, this device. It's gonna have to big. Huge, infact. And we are gonna need some pretty dangerous materials."

"Like what?" Rory asked.

"Well, the way I heard it we're going to need seven things." A sly smile played on his lips though his eyes remained as cold and hard as ice, "First, we're gonna need some sort of conduction rod. But it would have to be big. Really big. Our best bet would be to use some sort of building here in London. Next, we're gonna need something old. Like really old. At least three thousand years. _At least_. And no, we cannot just go back in time and get something because then it would be new not old and that would defeat the whole purpose. Third, we would somehow need to get a wing of an Angel."

"A wing?!" Rory and I cried, outraged and in unison.

"Yes a wing, keep up Ponds."

"Williams," Rory muttered.

"Whatever. So we need a wing, something old... Oh right, and the possession of someone who was sent back in time by the Angels. That shouldn't be that hard. Right, and-"

"Doctor, where exactly did you get this list?" I asked.

"Morengray. It's a planet a from the Icling Cascade. Nearly every planet in Icling was, or rather will, since it hasn't happened yet, be terrorized by the Angels. They will kill or send back in time nearly every resident. Morengray was one of the last places for the Angels got to. The Morengraians were a particularly wise race that had the ability to peacefully live for thousands of years. The Angels threw everything into chaos. War raged and people went crazy. Among the citizens was a brilliant man and very good friend of mine, Taleb Quell.

"He created this… process in order to free his people from the Angels. And it worked. He saved all of Morengray and some other neighboring planets. This process is like repellent from the Angels. If we use it the Angels will never be able to come back to this earth _ever_ again. Now please, let me continue." He looked up at us, clearly annoyed, "Fourth we need a kiss of an Angel. Fifth, a something made of pure silver. Silver can be used as a sort of repellent to Angels. It doesn't work for long, but is does slow them down. We are also going to need mirrors. Lots of them. This way the Angels won't be able to get anywhere near the product. Lastly, we need a sword that has cut an Angel."

I glance up at him through a tuft of red hair covering my eyes. "When do we get started?"


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter Six

Highgate Cemetery loomed in the distance, it's stone crosses and statues looking slightly less terrifying in the afternoon sun.

"Now, Mr. Holmes, are you glad you came along?" I said as we walked through the cemetery's gate. It had been a dull experience so far, taking the chute toward the cemetery, John and Sherlock giving us dirty looks the whole time. It was obvious enough that neither of them liked us. Detective Sherlock Holmes, master of murders and famous for the hat (Which unfortunately was nowhere in sight) didn't like me. I was also pretty sure Watson thought we were criminals. If only the meeting had gone more like the one with Van Gogh. That guy offered to have kids with me.

"Well, I do believe we have only just entered Highgate," John mumbled, "The interesting part has yet to be determined."

I give him an over exaggerated fake smile. As much as I wanted him to like me I still felt like I had to pretend not to like him. _He'll learn to like me_ I tell myself _he's got to_. I turn to the Doctor, remembering the chat we had had on the bus. He had told Rory and I to act natural, to just act like we didn't find anything. Afterword, tomorrow morning, we would come back and try to find a way to acquire the things we need. "We have to keep this silent," he had said, "Eventually it will blow up, but for now, we need to keep a low profile."

I cringe slightly as we stride past a stone angel. I turn to see Rory glaring at the angel, making sure to keep his eyes on it while he walked past.

"What is it?" Sherlock asked, his voice flat. He stared at the angel as well, it's skin the color of rusty staples. It had a pleasant expression on, under it's hands; eyes closed as closed as if enjoying a nice dream. _Yeah, about our slaughter,_ I think.

"Why are you all staring at that Angel." Sherlock says, louder this time with a ring of annoyance from not being answered the first time.

"It's just… very pretty." Rory said as nonchalantly as he could muster.

"By now, _Rory_ , I thought you would know that I could tell when you were lying."

"They're just super creepy," I interject, trying to avoid an oncoming fight, "Neither of us really like the Weeping Angels."

Sherlock gives a loud a huff and throws us a dirty look. "You know," I tell him, "It's really not too late to turn back."

"We are not leaving," John said sternly.

"Oh yeah, because you can imagine all the damage all the dangerous things we could do in a graveyard!" I cry out, pissed off at John for real this time.

"You know what, with your attitude I can!" He tossed back.

"What are you, my mom?" I tell him angrily.

"Well according to Sherlock you don't have one!" That threw me over the line. I purse my lips, a cold calm settling over my body.

"Excuse me?" I ask.

"You heard me!" John said, not sounding very sure this time.

And that's when I charge, screaming, "I'll have you know my mom is perfectly fine, UNLIKE YOU!" Rory pulls me back but I kick and thrash in his grasp. "Let me go!" I yell, "Rory, LET ME GO!"

Hey, hey, hey," He whispers, "It's fine, just calm down. John didn't mean it." He turns to John, "Right John?" John stays silent, a small sign a fear a light in the center of his pupil.

"You know, I've heard a lot about the famous _Watson_ , but never that he was such a selfish pig!" I spit ferociously. John stayed silent, eyes staring at the two of us. And then a thought occurred to me. _Where was Sherlock?_ I pull myself out of Rory's loosening grip and look around. He seemed to have disappeared. Finally I voice my concern.

"Where is Sherlock?" I ask. John's face fell, realizing his colleagues disappearance for the first time.

"Sherlock?" John called, sounding slightly frightened, "Sherlock? Sherlock where are you? SHERLOCK!"

Me and Rory turned to the Doctor, both of us feeling the worst. _Maybe this is how it happens_ I think, _Maybe he and John get zapped back to 1891 and that's how all of this happens._ I look back at the spot Sherlock had vanished from and and another thought forms in my mind. _John's still here_.

Luckily before my thoughts get anymore intimidating a deep voice comes from behind a mausoleum.

"Here! John, I'm here, god." Sherlock says, shaking his head.

"Why were over there?"John says sounding revealed.

"Oh, funny story." Sherlock says, "I swear, I saw one of those Angels move."


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter Seven

"What?" I say slowly.  
"One of the angel statues," He responds, "It's just, I could swear it's hands were covering it's eyes. And then, well I turned away and when I turned back, it's hands were at it's sides."

"Must have just been a trick of the light," Rory mumbled.

"Yeah," Sherlock muttered, "Must've." There was a twitch in his eyes, a twitch I had seen countless times before. He knew what he saw. He could swear by what he saw. But he couldn't have. What he saw was impossible. So he would pretend he didn't see it, laugh it off like it was a joke. But he knew what he saw. And it would drive him mad.

I had worn that look once, all those years ago when I had been just a little girl. I had seen so many people wear that look as well. Rory, Cazzarac, Vincent, President Nixon, even River. It was the look you wore when you were in the presence of the doctor.

Rory, the Doctor and I shared a look. What Sherlock said had confirmed the fact that this is the place of the Angels.

"Did I miss anything?" Sherlock asked. I eyed John and Rory. Was he talking about the Angels or the from fight earlier? I nodded my head toward Rory, emphasizing that he should answer. Rory opened his mouth to speak, clearly not sure what he was going to say next. Before he could choke out any words John cut in.

"Nothing. Nothing at all."

"Really?" Sherlock asked, his voice heavy with sarcasm, "Because if I were to take a wild guess I'd say that you and Amy were just about through some punches. Really John, talking about her parents? Not a good move."

I knew what he was doing. He was trying to draw all of his and everyone around him's attention from what he had just seen. And being rude to John seemed like the only way he could do it.

"Look," I said, hoping to avoid anymore anymore conflict, "It's alright. Everything is alright. Let's just calm down and continue investigating."

"Investigating," Rory muttered, "Yeah right."

We continued walking in silence until the Doctor wrinkled his nose and whispered, "The wings, the iron, oh, of course. The mausoleum. I really do hate graveyards." His voice was a slow haunting lull, like a dangerous lullaby.

"Doctor, are you okay? I asked.

"Fine, fine," He whispered, "Totally, fine. I just have the sneaking suspicion that we should check out that mausoleum." Her glanced up at John and Sherlock, "Or perhaps not."

"That mausoleum?" John said raising an eyebrow, "You do realize breaking and entering is still illegal in crypts."

"Right," The Doctor said, a smile forming on his lips like he was snapping out of a faze. "Of course. I wouldn't dream of it." He gave Sherlock a wink.

"So what's so interesting about this mausoleum anyway?" John asked.

"Not sure." The Doctor responded, "What do you think Sherlock?"

"Built 1872," Sherlock responds without batting an eye, "By William Percival Heartsdale. He made it when his father died. The mausoleum's first resident. Later the crypt was joined by Heartsdale himself, his wife, his three kids, their spouses and his seven grandchildren. Melissa Heartsdale, the last person to be added into the mausoleum, decided to close it for good. After her cremation they closed the doors for good. It hasn't been opened since, but local lore says there spirit enchants the stone angels that guard the tomb. The tales said that the spirits could... Make them move."

"Well than," The Doctor said quietly, "Best to keep our eyes open."

"What, do you just google Mausoleums?" Rory asked without gaining a response.

"Hold on," John interjected, "What are you implying?" Nobody answered again. We all just stared at each other for a while until Sherlock piped up.

"Am I the the only one thinking that we should...maybe…"

"Look in the mausoleum?" I ask. Everyone stared at me as if I had just spoken some unspeakable truth, though I knew everyone had been thinking it. Finally Sherlock nodded. He was soon joined by Rory, John and the Doctor.

"Yeah," I whisper, "That's what I thought."


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter Eight

The mausoleum was cold, in a way that you couldn't express in a movie. John nervously stomped behind me, is head hung low in disgrace as if ashamed for wanting to be in the mausoleum. Sherlock head his head high, afraid to show any sign of doubt. Rory nervously grabbed my hand, secretly frightened by the bottles of ashes.

"Urgh," John muttered, looking at the bottles thats contents had once been people.

"What is it, Johnny?" I said with a smirk, "Afraid of a few ghosts?"

"Ha ha ha," He grumbled, "Very funny."

Sherlock furrowed his brow, curiously eyeing an Angel with an almost laughing expression on it's stoney face.

"Looks like someone doesn't like the Angels," The Doctor whispered.

Sherlock rolled his eyes but stayed silent.

"So what's so great about this mausoleum anyway?" John asked, rubbing his arms trying to keep warm.

"I don't know, Johnny, you're the one who wanted to bust in here," I say giving him a pained smile.

"My name's not Johnny, it's John." He responded through gritted teeth.

"Whatever you say." I pause, "Johnny."

"There is something weird going on here." Sherlock murmured.

"Yeah, you're telling me," Rory muttered, rolling his eyes and giving the Doctor a second glance.

"No, no I mean with this building. There is something wrong with the infrastructure."

"The infrastructure?" The Doctor asked, running his hand along the wall of the crypt.

"Yes, the infrastructure. In fact…" He closed his eyes, mumbling words quietly to himself.

"What's… Um… What's he doing?" Rory asked, staring at Sherlock from all angles.

"He's going into his mind palace?" John said, crossing his arms.

"His what?" I ask.

"Shut up!" Sherlock yelled.

"His what?" I whispered.

"His mind palace," John whispered back.

"Since when does Sherlock Holmes have a mind palace?" I asked Rory.

"Well-" Rory started.

"Since when do you know anything about Sherlock Holmes?" John said, with an annoyed raised eyebrow.

I eyed the Doctor, confused on what my answer should be. Before I could answer Sherlock whispered to words. "Fake floor."

"What," John asked.

"Fake floor," Sherlock said again, louder this time. He felt around, looking at the engraved walls. And then pushed at a small hole in the carving.

And that's when the floor crumpled beneath our feet.


	9. Chapter 9

Chapter Nine

A scream escaped my lips as I plummeted toward the floor. Bits of rock from the once-floor tumbled onto me as I landed painfully on the concrete floor. "Ow…" I whispered. I moved some blood streaked rocks away from my foot and let out another cry of pain.

"Amy!" Rory cried, "Amy, are you okay?" He looked mostly unharmed, except for a few bruises from some small fallen rocks.

"Yeah," I tell him, "I mean mostly. I think I twisted my ankle." Rory pushed the rocks off himself and headed toward me. "Ow… oh, ow that hurt." I say as he plops a few more rocks off my foot.

"That's more than twisted," A voice said from behind Rory, "That's broken."

"Well no shit, Sherlock." I say angrily. "You look fine."

"That's because I was expecting it." Sherlock said, rolling his eyes. I told you what was going to happen. You should have been ready, too."

"Oh yeah, because 'fake floor' is a perfect explanation. Rory help me up."

Rory looked down at me concerned, "I don't think that's the best idea…"

"Come on, I've suffered worse, now help me up you big idiot." Rory sighed and reached out his hand for me to grab.

"Ah… I wouldn't do that." Sherlock said shaking his head.

"Why?" I asked him angrily.

"Because," He responded, "If you continue to walk on it you could make it worse." He pulled some gauze, bandage wrap and antibiotic cream.

I rolled my eyes, "Fine, Holmes, go ahead. Just don't make anything worse."

"Please, I am perfectly trained in the art of making a temporary sling. He bent down and started to apply the antibiotic.

"Ow," I whispered, "Oh, god, that stings."

"Stop whining," Rory said, start to shift some more rocks off my body.

"Whatever you say, sweetie." I lean in happily and give him a kiss. Rory gives a laugh and happily obliges.

"Oh cool it you two." Said Sherlock giving us a pissed off glance. He started to wrap the bandage, his careful hands moving like clockwork.

"You know," Rory said matter-o-factly, "I thought John was the Doctor, not you. Where is he anyway?"

Sherlock looked up, "Oh, not again." He mumbled silently, "John? John? John! Come on, John!"

A muffled response sounded from the other side of the giant pile of stone blocking the gateway to the left. I made a gurgling sound and threw my head back in annoyance. Rory sighed, got up and started moving the rocks so we could get through.

"Doctor?" I called, "Are you in their?"

"Yep!" He called back in a surprisingly chipper manner. Rory rolled his eyes tried to move a rock.

"Urgh," He grunted, "Ahh! It's stuck!"

Sherlock rolled his eyes, "John, move the rocks," he called to the other side.

"I… I… I'm trying! But they aren't moving!" John cried back.

"What are you saying?" I ask angrily, not needing another dilemma on my hands.

"What I'm saying," Responded Rory, biting his lip, "Is we're trapped here."


	10. Chapter 10

Chapter Ten

"Holmes!" I called angrily as I trudged behind him, my body weight divided between my unharmed leg and Rory's shoulder. "This is all your fault!"

Rory rolled his eyes, "Don't worry Sherlock, she gets like this when she's in pain."

"I do not," I said, scowling. "And it is your fault. We're trapped down here because of you."

Sherlock rounded another corner. I tried to keep a mental note of how many ties we've turned. Left, right, left, left. Each passageway longer than the one before. "We are not trapped down here. There is another way out of this hole, I know it. I just have to find it."

I gave Rory an uneasy look. The road so far had been quiet. To quiet. There hadn't been a single Angel, a single disturbance. Something was wrong.

"You know, I'm still not sure why we are in this crypt in the first place." Sherlock said, fingering the dusty wall. "And I really do hope the answer is better than 'for your amusement.'"

"We're… scouting." Rory answered, "You know, most of the disappearances are centered around this area. And we just found a secret underground crypt. This has to important somehow."

Rory gave me a sly smile and I rolled my eyes. I loved that crazy boy, the way he thought he was so clever, the way he smirked and laughed and cherished me to no end. He was my life, my home, my entire family in one person. Rory was my everything. I gave him a tight squeeze and he happily supported my weight.

"Oh god, love birds. If you're gonna lie and be cutzies about it, do it on your own time." Sherlock muttered.

"He's not lying," I tell him.

"Yes he is," Sherlock said in a bored voice. Rory shrugged in a what-can-we-do sort of way. I rest my head on his shoulder and then cringe in the way I had to set down my foot.

"Slow down, there, horsie." He said laughing and re-adjusting his stance. Sherlock paused and waited for us to get going.

"Leadworth?" He asked.

"Excuse me?" I responded

"Leadworth. That's where you're from, isn't it?"

"Holmes." I said, rolling my eyes, "You continue to amaze." Sherlock smirked. "But you know what would be even more amazing? If you could Get. Us. Out. Of. Here! "

"What do you think I'm doing?" He responded blankly. "The quicker we do this the quicker we get back to John. And the quicker we get back to John the faster we can all go home happy."

"Fine, Holmes. Hey, you know what would get us to John even faster? If we hadn't freaking fell through a ceiling!"

"You're the one that wanted to go into the mausoleum in the first place!" He yelled back.

"Oh please!" I responded, "If it weren't for-" I stopped dead in my tracks. Fear crept up inside of me like a spider. It's tiny legs paralyzing my entire body. Every inch frozen in terror. My heart beated at a hundred times a minute as I looked at the source of my hour.

In front of me stood a Weeping Angel.


	11. Chapter 11

Chapter Eleven

"Back away, slowly, "I said through gritted teeth.

Sherlock eyed the angel suspiciously. "It's just a stone angel," He said slowly but he knew it wasn't true. He had seen the Angel move earlier. Looked as it wept for a second and was gone the next. He knew something was up. He knew it, but he couldn't accept them. Sherlock turned to face us and repeated, "It's just a stone angel."

"Don't take your eyes off it!" Rory yelped.

Sherlock's eyes narrowed, "Why?" He asked suspiciously, "What does it… what do you think it will do?"

"This… This is going to sound crazy," I said timidly, "But…. well it, um, it."

"Just spit it out," Sherlock said blankly.

"They move." I said bluntly, hoping it wouldn't seem as crazy as it sounded.

"They… move? Is that it?"

"And they kill people. And send them back in time." Rory muttered

"And why?" Sherlock asked.

"Because it creates time energy," I said, "Which they feed off of."

"I'm… I'm sorry but this is insane. You're crazy. This is crazy. And impossible-"

"Look, you saw one earlier in the graveyard. It was there and then it was gone." I said angrily, tired of people thinking I was crazy.

"Oh, yeah so do they just magically move only when we aren't looking?"

"That's exactly what happens!" Rory cried.

"Look," I tell him, "They're monsters, but they have this defence mechanism. Whenever anyone looks at them they turn to stone. But they're wicked fast. And only one touch could kill you."

"Look, Amy, you seem like a nice girl but this is beyond-"

"Look at me! See if I'm lying! I know you can tell. We've dealt with these things before! And this is what they do!"

Rory looked up at me, eyes fierce yet quiet, "Why don't we show him?" He asked, his voice scarily calm.

"Show him?" I asked.

"Show him." He responded.

I sighed, "Alright, Holmes. I guess we're gonna show you."

"Show me what?" Sherlock said sarcastically, "The Angels?"

"Yes. The Angels. Holmes, turn off your light."

"Excuse me?"

"Your torch! They move in the darkness, where no one can see them."

"So how am I supposed to know if they move?"

"Oh, come on. You're smarter than that! They'll move positions, for god's sake!" I yell.

"Know, on the count of three everyone turn off your torches," Rory said quietly, "Only for a second. We can't let it touch us." He glanced at the Angel in front of us, her stone hands covering her face, a small smile playing at her lips. "Only for a second," Rory repeated.

I nod and glance at Sherlock, ready to see his response. He looks at us in disbelief, "You people are crazy."

"Then why would it hurt to turn out the lights?" I whispered.

Sherlock glared at me, "Fine. Fine, I'll play along."

Rory nodded. "One… Two… Three."

And we turned out the lights.


	12. Chapter 12

Chapter Twelve

The world turned to darkness for a brief moment. A brief moment that felt like an eternity. "On!" I whispered frantically, once the mure second had seemed like to long. The lights flicked back on and a scream piped out of cracked lips.

The Angel stood centimeters from my face, it's jejune claw nearly stroking my cheek. Fangs broke out of it's gums and it's eyes grew wide.

"That's… That's not possible." Sherlock said, more to reassure himself than the others around him.

"I think we're a little over _not possible_." Rory mumbled. Suddenly footsteps thudded behind us, sounding a few meters away.

"What's that?" Rory whisper-screamed. I frantically glanced at the ground and picked up a sharp rock that had fallen from the ceiling. Rory gave a distressed look and went into his fighter-stance.

"There are two of them," Sherlock speed whispered, "I would suspect male, mid thirties, put the pace suggests something else. They're aren't running toward us. They're running from something."

"So not the Angels?" I asked.

"Not the-"

"ANGELS!" A familiar voice screamed, "Oh thank god, Amy!" The Doctor ran up to me and grabbed my arm, "Amy, there are Angels."

"Ah… Doctor?" I said, nodding my head toward the Angel inches from my face.

"Oh! Right!" He said, batting his eyes, "Well, very well, come on."

"Wait, why?" Rory asked.

"There are Angels!" John screamed suddenly, "Moving, stone angels!" His voice was frantic scream, a common voice used by people who witness the impossible.

"Yes, Watson, keep up," I called, "So the Angels?"

"Yeah?" The Doctor responded.

"Are they chasing you?"

"Um… yes?"

"Then should we run?"

"Oh. Right. Yeah, probably." He turned to face Rory and Sherlock, "Ready for a little game of chase?" He asked.

"Oh, come on!" I yelled and started to run down the hall. Rory was quick to follow, John and Sherlock on his tail and The Doctor trotting behind.

"Move!" I yelled, "Let's get as far away from these things as possible."

"It wouldn't be much farther," Sherlock responded, "There has to be a door." We continued to run down the long hallway, listening to the thud of the Angels a few passageways behind us.

"Left!" Sherlock yelled, "Now right! Oh god, I said right!" I rolled my eyes and followed Sherlock's instructions. "Alright, alright," He panted, "It should be right… here."

In front of us stood a stone giant wall.


	13. Chapter 13

Chapter Thirteen

"No, no, no, no, no!" Sherlock shouted, "This can't be happening! This wall… It shouldn't… Why does the world hate me?" He let out a frustrated scream and slammed his hand into the stone plate. "This was never in the layout!"

"Do you think the Angels could have somehow… moved it there?" I asked.

"Of course they did!" Sherlock said cheerily as he banged his head against the wall, "Because we're in a freaking underground crypt with stone angels that can move."

"It's okay," Rory said, "There… There are a lot of us. As long as we keep our eyes peeled the Angels won't get us."

"How many of them are there?" I asked, trying to keep a strong demeanor.

"At least a dozen," The Doctor responded, "There's definitely more."

"So do we just… wait here?" I said, sinking into a sitting position against the rock.

The Doctor stayed silent, taking in our grim and terrified faces. His eyes traced the beautifully engraved walls, there wave designs and star patterns decorating the walls of the mausoleum and then coming to a halt as the stone road blocker came into view. Carefully, he placed his thin hand in the very center of the rock wall. Diligently, the Doctor closed his eyes and pushed. A sound of stone rubbing against stones sounded and a perfect circle of stone pushed itself farther into the stone.

"How did you do that?" I asked, forgetting that I was supposed to know what was going on.

"Oh, Amy," The Doctor said, grinning, "The Angels had to have a way out, too." I glared at the wall as it weathered away into nothing. We all stared at it, transfixed, until John let out a small scream.

I whipped around to see a tiny Angel, it's hand outstretched, grabbing at air, inches away from John's sunny blonde hair. More Angels stood behind it, claws at the ready.

"Let's just go," Rory muttered, turning back to the now open passageway full of stairs leading up toward the sun. John nodded, eyes trained on the Angels.

"Alright," The Doctor sighed, "Come along, Ponds." Rory and I started to walk into the doorway when I remembered.

"Wait," I called.

"What?" Rory asked, shifting under the weight of body.

I leaned against him, adjusting my ankle and then continued, "The… The list. The wing. We need the Angel's wing."

"What list?," John asked, "What wing?"

"There's a list," I responded, "Used properly it could rid this whole planet of the Angels. A wing is one of the ingredients."

"So…" John concluded, "You guys are trying to find ingredients… to save the world… from stone Angels."

"Yep," Rory responded, "That pretty much sums it up."

"And I thought being BFFs with a sociopath was strange."

"Alright," I murmured, "Stand back."

"Amy…" Rory said as I hobbled off of his shoulder and toward the Angel. I gave him a glare that screamed _shut up_ and then hefted the sharp rock above my head. Uncomfortably, I swung the rock down on the angels wing. "Ow!" I screamed, glaring at the undented wing. Rory, pulled me back, putting even more weight on my throbbing foot.

"Give me the rock," Rory said, hand outstretched.

"Fine," I muttered angrily, leaning against the wall. Rory smirked and in one swift motion cut the Angel's wing. The giant feathered stone fell to the ground. Rory grunted and tried to pick it up without success. The Doctor sighed, gave Rory a hand and the two of them picked up the wing and headed toward the door.

I rolled my eyes and limped toward the door. Before I knew it an arm was around my back and John at my side.

"Come on," He said winking. And together we headed out into the world of the sinking sun.


	14. Chapter 14

Chapter Fourteen

The ride back to Baker Street was less awkward than expected. It consisted mainly of being awkwardly squished between Rory and John, the tip of the ginormous stone wing pressed painfully against my twisted leg. In the car we received some confused look from the strangers sitting across from us and one homeless man decided to use the wing as an excuse to start warding off the devil but other than that we were fine.

John and Sherlock, on the other hand, were the opposite of fine. The sat side by side, John's lips in fierce concentration, trying to absorb what he had just learned. Sherlock stayed perched next to him, in what looked like a complete state of denial.

I had expected this. I knew what kind of man Sherlock was and how is brain functioned. He relied on science and science alone. Science was his rock, his redeemer, his religion. He could only rely on what he knew to be fact and what he knew to be fiction. He had based his whole life around, solved case after case with the help of a friend he could always trust. Until know.

It wasn't until we were behind the closed doors of 221b that either of them spoke.

"That didn't happen," were the words to come across dear Mr. Holmes' lips. Like I had expected it was denial. Denial had become my constant companion, an emotion that followed me everywhere. It had to. When I showed people impossible things all they could do was latch on to contradiction, squeeze dissent tight and rebuttal any thought of the obscure truth.

"What didn't happen, Sherlock?" I chipper old voice piped up from the kitchen.

"Nothing Mrs. Hudson," Sherlock responded loudly, sounding like his old self again, "Out Mrs. Hudson."

Mrs. Hudson gave him a confused glance and stayed in the doorway.

"I said out!" Sherlock snarled, revealing a bit the madman that slept under the skin the of cool calm and collected beast. Unfortunately the Angels had awoken the sleeping beast and nobody, not even John, knew what to expect.

Mrs. Hudson gave Sherlock an angry glance and stormed out of the room, spatula flying, hastily murmuring something about her husband.

Sherlock, the raging madman, turned to us, "Make me forget. You can do that right? Make me forget?"

I glanced at Rory and the Doctor, expression desperate. The Doctor gave a slight shake of his head and watched as Sherlock angrily turned to John. "Say something John." Sherlock whispered, "Just say something."

John looked around, taking in the scene. Sherlock in his crazy state, Rory nervously looking around, looking extremely uncomfortable. The Doctor cautiously leaned against the wall while I stood tall, arms crossed, waiting for his response. His expression was hard to read as his head circled around the room. Everything was different now. Now that he knew.

Finally John opened his dry mouth to speak, licking his pale lips. He let his mouth hang open for a minute, forcing us to wait in suspense. He took a second to close his eyes and carefully choose his next words. "Who," he paused and let his pupils bore into mine, "Who are you."


	15. Chapter 15

Chapter Fifteen

The room filled with an eerie amount of silence. We all stared at John, knowing he had just spoken the unthinkable question. _Who are you?_ Sometimes from the past, sometimes from the future, sometimes from another planet. Even Sherlock looked scared of the answer.

"Well?" John asked angrily, his tone swelling with frustration.

 _I'll handle this_ I mouth to Rory. Rory responded with a questioning look but I shot him down with a glare. "Look. This might sound a tad bit mad-"

"Oh, believe me after what I just witnessed mad seems like a dream."

"Alright," I shrugged, "Here goes nothing. My name is Amelia Pond. I'm from Leadworth." I pointed toward Rory, "That's my husband. Rory Williams. And next to him is my best friend, The Doctor. But he's more than my best friend. He's also my son-in-law."

I paused for a second to stare at the two detectives, registering their surprise, but also there unsurprise. They almost seemed to be expecting it, in a strange way. It made me nearly sad to see how nonchalant they were, how, at this point, they were just rolling with it.

"How… How this is possible," I continued, "Is because we're time travelers." I started talking a million miles an hour, not wanting to stop to see their expressions, their denial. "Yeah, you see when I was a kid the Doctor came in this Blue Box he uses as a time machine. And he… he told me he'd be back in five minutes but actually he came back in twelve years and I was all grown up and we saved the world and then he came back in two years and we started traveling again. And we save the world and travel all over and fight monsters like the Angels and the Silence and the Daleks. And it's just-"

"Hold on." John interjected, "When exactly are… you from?"

"Well… now," Rory answered.

"What he means to say," I added, "Is that we're from the same time zone as you… just in a parallel universe."

"A parallel universe?" John asked, shaking his head, "Now I've heard everything."

"I know it sounds mad, but it's the truth. We were chasing the Angels. There's a sort of portal that opens every 28 days. They fell through the first one, last month. We arrived today. So… in the next 28 days we need to figure out a way to get rid of the Angels- and the wing is the first ingredient.

"So angel repellent soup?" John asked.

I shrugged, "More or less." Hastily I turn to Sherlock, nervous on his response.

He stared at me blankly, "There has to be some sort of explanation for this. There must be."

"Well, technically, it's all science. Science from the future… different species. There's nothing mystical about it. It all makes sense."

Sherlock takes in an annoyed breath, "It's just… There is so much I don't know, so much I can't even begin to understand."

"Oh look," John sneered, the anger of the unknown making him harsh, "Little Sherlock is upset that he doesn't know anything. What ever shall he do know?"

Sherlock glared at him, "I'll start with getting some of the ingredients on your list."

"Excuse me?" John asked.

"Come along, John." Sherlock responded, "Let's go save the world."


	16. Chapter 16

Chapter Sixteen

"Oh bloody hell," John muttered, shaking his head, "How the hell are we supposed to get _that_?"

Those words had been the expression on John's the entire time we had read the list. An Angel's Kiss? A three thousand year old object? A sword to cut an Angel? The list didn't seem to calm Sherlock down either, though he did seem excited to have something to do.

"Rory?" Sherlock asked, "Do you still have the rock?"

"What rock?" Rory asked in response, doing his cute little head tilt to the side.

"The Rock you used to cut the Angels of course!" Sherlock said angrily, "That cut the Angel- therefore it can be the "Sword to Cut an Angel." Simple."

"Actually," Rory muttered, "Not so simple. I left the rock back in the crypt."

"What?" John cried, "Why did you do that?!"

"Well, at the time I was busy carrying a giant Angel wing and didn't exactly think a rock would be so bloody important!"

"Rory!" I whispered in his ear, trying to lean into him, "Calm down."

"I am calm!" He responded

"No your not," Sherlock said, shaking his head.

"Both of you!" I cried, "Let's just get back to the list."

"Alright," John said, agreeing with the whole peace-and-love-and-no-fighting idea, "Sherlock… the mirrors. What about Mr. Rodgerson? He owes you doesn't he?"

"Yes he does. I'll have to make a stop by his flat later. So we have the mirrors covered. But you do realize there are eight items on the list?"

"Of course," Rory responded, "We just… ah, don't count the 'tall building' as an object."

Sherlock gave an annoyed huff and turned to John, "I need to smoke. Smoke now. Where's my smoke? John?" Where are my smokes?"

"Hidden," John sighed, "Cold Turkey remember?"

"I can't Cold Turkey this! This is impossible! I need to smoke! John, I _need_ to smoke!"

"Nobody is smoking," Rory said loudly, "It is very bad for you and can lead to early death and nobody is dying because we are getting through this!"

"Smooth," I whispered, quietly. He shot me down with a glare and continued to give Sherlock his intense nurse-look.

"We are gonna handle this. Alright, everyone is going to pull ourselves together and figure out this list. What's next."

Sherlock sighed, "I'm gonna need a smoke. Some smokes now!"

John rolled his eyes, "Please Sherlock." He turned to face us, "Next up- kiss of an Angel."


	17. Chapter 17

Chapter Seventeen

The cold night air nipped at my shoulders as I sat down next to Rory, "This plan is ridiculous and I don't like it."

"Oh come on, it's completely safe, I promise you."

"But what about my leg! What if I can't get to you in time?"

"Amy, everything will be okay I promise."

"I hate using you as bait," I sighed.

"At least you'll be safe," He said, kissing my red hair.

"I hate being safe," I frowned. He laughed and planted a wet kiss so my lips. I smiled and rubbed my arms, regretting only wearing my thin purple top and leaving my jacket back in the apartment. Rory smirked and wrapped his gray hoodie around my shivering body. I kissed his cheek and pushed my arms into the sleeves.

"You're rather ridiculous, you know."

"I do know. It's the reason you married me." He laughed and pressed his face against mine. After a second or two he placed his tongue between my lips and I did the same. Being with Rory flushed all my worries out the door and a the feeling of butterflies rise in my chest. I loved him. I loved him with everything I had. He was passionate and kind and loving and a surprisingly good kisser. If something were to happen to him I'd-

"Oi! Rory, stop kissing your wife and get in position."

"Sure thing, Doctor," He yelled, pushing himself away from me. I sighed and stood up too. He smiled and whispered in my ear, "I hate being here at night."

I nodded in agreement, "At least you'll have John."

Rory laughed, "At least I'll have John."

He smiled and walked to the center of the graveyard, his hands playing with his hair. Kiss of an Angel. How the hell were we going to pull this one off? The whole plan was just a guess, an attempt on how we would get an Angel's kiss. What even was an Angel's kiss? The Angel didn't kiss things, they killed things. Usually the only thing they did with their mouth was snarl. But the snarl of an Angel didn't sound very poetic.

"Alright lights out!" Sherlock's unmistakingly deep voice shouted. One by one the flashlights went out. First Sherlock's then Rory's and John's and Finally the Doctor's. Only mine remained lit. Finally I gave a deep sigh and flickered off the torch.

The world soon grew hauntingly black, the light of the stars and moon were blocked out by the lights of London. Unfortunately the city lights didn't provide much help either. Sherlock had already cut the power to the closest street lights. There was almost nothing to see but my eyes soon adjusted and I was able to make out faint shapes. I cast my eyes away from Rory and John and instead toward the ground ready to turn on my light the second an Angel came into a view.

I stood there for a few minutes, just waiting. I, through my nervousness, grew bored. I waited and waited and waited some more. It seemed like all the Angels had just left the cemetery, decided they had something better to do. And then a blood curling scream ran through the night air.


	18. Chapter 18

Chapter Eighteen

Almost immediately a flicked my torch back on, it's light catching on the stone face of a gleeful Angel, inches from my face. I stepped back, the breath caught right out of my mouth. "Doctor!" I screamed, taking another step back. _Don't blink, don't blink, don't blink, don't blink._ I repeated the mantra in my mind, hell bent on keeping my eyes wide open. Oh god, I can't do this. Carefully I closed one eye, opened it and then closed the other.

"AMY!" A shout called across the cemetery. "Amy, where are you?"

"John?" I asked, "I'm… I'm near the entrance."

"Alright, I'm heading your way." I heard a stamp of feet and saw the beam of a flashlight rise over the cemetery walls.

"Careful," I called, "There are Angels out there." I heard a small gulping sound and felt John's cold hand on my wrist.

"I'm here." He whispered, eyes trained on the Angel. "It's okay."

"Did it work? Why are you still here? Where's Rory?"

"It worked… well sort of. The Angel took Rory, not me."

"Why?" I asked, biting my lip.

"I'm not sure," John responded. "It seemed rather random."

"Do you think the plan will still work?" I asked nervously.

Suddenly, with a flash, the street lights turned back on and a defying yelp went through the air.

"Oi! Amy, John? What are you still doing here?" The Doctor called

"Where's Rory?" Sherlock asked.

"It didn't work," I said miserably, eyeing the Angel that still had its frightening smile painted on its stone lips.

"Rory got sent back, but not me." John clarified.

"Doctor, do you think he was still able to do it?" I asked biting my nail.

The Doctor gave a childish laugh, "Oh Amy, how quick you are to underestimate your husband. You know Rory! He's the last centurion! He can beat a couple of Angels!"

I nodded numbly, "I guess we'll have to find out."

"Let's hope it was before 1648." Sherlock said shaking his head. That was part of our plan. Wherever Rory ended up he was supposed to carve into the gravestone of Robert Harley, a man who died in 1648. The four of us stomped over to the gravestone. I could tell Sherlock was still skeptical. We had told him we had 'a way of getting them back.' Thankfully, with all crazy that been going on today he believed us. Or at least agreed. But now I could tell he was having his doubts.

Suddenly, I tumbled. My ankle started to throb with pain as a sat on the ground trying to get up. Sherlock sighed and helped me up.

"Thanks," I said, pressing my body against his.

Sherlock steadyed me and then turned to look me directly in the eye. "Rory's gonna be okay," He said slowly, "I know it."

I nodded and opened my mouth to say something but then stopped. What was I supposed to say to that? Luckily the Doctor didn't force me to stand in awkward silence for too long by letting out a short laugh.

"Well would you look at that?" He chuckled.

"What?" John asked.

"Oh the irony!" The Doctor cried in response, "Come see for yourself!" I trudged over, dragging Sherlock along with me.

Engraved on the tombstone were four, scratched in numbers.

1891.


	19. Chapter 19

Chapter Nineteen

The walk back to the TARDIS was slow and uncomfortable. And of course, filled with John' s constant nagging on how we were going to save Rory. I could tell Sherlock wanted to know too, but he kept his mouth shut. He hated not knowing but was way too proud to ask.

"Okay so… is it some sort of special object?" John pressed, "That can time travel?"

"You'll see, John." The Doctor responded in a sing-song voice.

"Come on, Amy," John said turning to me. "Is it some sort of… magic hat?"

"You'll figure it out in a minute, John." I answered, following the Doctor's taciturn actions. Usually I wouldn't have been as cryptic but with Rory missing I was nervous and I let my emotions overtake my words.

John didn't seem to notice.

"Okay, okay, not a magic hat, but what about a magic ring? From that Tolkien movie! Is it like that?"

"God, John," I said, rolling my eyes, "You are not a hobbit, give it a rest!"

"Alright, not a hobbit… Oi! Is it like the delorean? From the American movie?"

"John, we need to get you a girlfriend." I muttered under my breath.

"I'm engaged!" He said, angrily. "Why does everyone assume I'm a bachelor? Sherlock, why does everyone assume I'm a bachelor?"

"Maybe it's because you have the natural look of neediness that make people immediately assume-"

"It was a rhetorical question!" John yelled. It seemed like everyone else's sour attitude was finally affecting him. I sighed. What was Rory doing? Was he okay? Did he get what he needed? What if we came to early? What if we came too late? There were twelve months in 1981. Which one did Rory land in? The Doctor had told me before Rory had left that we would come in November. But what if he showed up in December? And what if-

"Ow!" I yelped as I tripped over a loose piece of rock in the road. John rolled his eyes and helped me up.

"Amy come on," he said tiredly, "Get your head out of the clouds."

I gave a forced laugh, "My husband is who knows where doing who knows what. For all I know he could be dead. He could have died 120 years ago. I am aloud to have my head in the clouds."

John stayed silent. The rest of the walk was spent in silence. I watched as we grew closer to the hill on which we had parked the TARDIS. London was beautiful. I had spent the majority of my life in Leadworth, not going on many vacations. With the Doctor I had been able to travel anywhere, but nothing beat modern day London.

Then a familiar object came into view. A small smile played on my lips as I saw the TARDIS coming up in the distance.


	20. Chapter 20

Chapter Twenty

"Here she is! The pride and joy of what's left of the Timelords- meaning me- a type 40 time and space machine, straight out of Gallifrey!" The Doctor placed his head on the door, "Hey, baby did you miss me?"

"Oh come on, Doctor, we rode it here this morning." I said rolling my eyes.

"Her, not an it!" The Doctor corrected.

"I'm sorry," John interjected, "But doesn't that _box_ seem a little _small_ for all four of us?"

"I am offended," the Doctor said in a way that made me know he was joking.

"I just… should all four of us go at once? I think it might be a little tight."

I laughed. "Why don't you go inside and see?" I gave John a steady raised eyebrow as he nervously bit his lip.

I smirked, "John, it's perfectly safe." John sighed, opened the door and stepped inside. We waited a few seconds until we heard a muffled yelp. The door swung open and there stood John, is mouth hanging open in a wide O.

"It's bigger!" He screeched, "Bigger on the inside!" I looked at me in wonder, "How is that possible?"

I smiled, "Really, John? I'd expect after fighting the Angels and meeting the Doctor you would have a little more… accepting… mindset."

John laughed madly and put his head in his hands. "Bigger… On the inside… On the inside… Bigger."

The Doctor gave me a look but I just shrugged, "What about you, Holmes? Wanna see our spaceship." Sherlock nodded solemnly but I could see that underneath he was terrified. He really hated not knowing everything.

The Doctor swung the door open and the four of us stomped in. In a matter of milliseconds I was again by the soft orange glow, the homey control panel and familiar walls of the Doctor's TARDIS.

"What's this machine called?" Sherlock asked.

"A TARDIS," The Doctor responded, "It stands for Time And Relative Dimensions In Space."

"So how does it work?" John said as he played with one of the levers.

"Ahh… I wouldn't touch that if I were you," the Doctor said as he swatted John's hand away from the lever, "Last time I had a companion do that we accidentally ended up blowing up Mt. Saint Helen's. Exhilarating experience? Yes. But good for your first trip? No."

John nervously looked at his feet.

"Ah, cheer up, Johnny! Can I all you Johnny? I'm going to call you Johnny. Anyway, Johnny, your mind could not contemplate the energy transformation that goes into making my Baby work, but all you have to know is when I flip-" he pressed a couple of buttons, pulled down on a lever and finally stopped at a blue switch, "-this switch, we'll be in 1891. Sound like a plan, Johnny?"

John nodded and started at the button. "Oh come on!" The Doctor laughed, "Just press it already, I can see you want to."

John gave a small smile that soon turned into a wide grin. He slammed his hand down on the button. The familiar noise of the TARDIS sounded and I could feel us moving from the spot we had just been in.

"I… I think I'm going to be sick." John said, holding his stomach.

"Really?" Sherlock said, raising an eyebrow, "I can't even tell if we moved or not. All I heard was that awful noise-"

"Oi!" The Doctor interjected, "I like the noise the engine makes."

"Whatever," Sherlock rolled his eyes, "So did we move or not?"

"Physically?" The Doctor responded, "No. We are in the exact same place. But… if you do happen to walk out that door, you'll be in the same place… in 1891."


	21. Chapter 21

Chapter Twenty-One

John took a deep breath, "Well?"

"Well what?" I asked timidly

"Are we going or not?"

I gave him a wide smile and pointed toward the TARDIS door, "After you."

"Um… well not exactly." The Doctor interjected.

John frowned, "But I want to go to 1891."

"Yes, John. And I have no problem with you going to 1891, but first," the Doctor held up a ridiculous Victorian top hat. "We need to get dressed."

Twenty minutes later I emerged in an floor length emerald dress with a white lace trim around the frilly scooped neckline. The skirt was long and full with a little extra fullness in the back and around my arms I wore long, satin gloves. My hair was done in a _Gibson Girl's_ puff and in my hands I had I had a green and white fan. But I had not felt the need to part with my shoes and therefore still wore my favorite pair of converse.

"Well you look very classy, my dear." The Doctor said as he walked into the TARDIS's main room. He was wearing a charcoal Callahan frock coat, a safford vest, a crimson bow tie, an expensive-looking gold pocket watch, a black cane with a gold tip and of course the ridiculous top hat.

"Well you look rather like Willy Wonka," I laughed. The Doctor smirked. "I mean, seriously, was the cane really necessary?"

"The cane is _always_ necessary." He said, giving me a funny expression.

I sighed and turned my head back toward the hallway, "John, Sherlock, hurry up! It's never a good sign when a woman can put on her outfit faster than a man. And I'm wearing a _corset_!"

"I'm trying!" John shouted, "But there are so many layers!"

I rolled my eyes and played with a piece of the console, secretly anxious to get Rory back. Finally, after what seemed like decades John appeared from the closed door he had changed behind. He was dressed in matching sable brushed green trousers, vest and frock coat with a four-in-hand tie and black coachman hat.

"Oh John!" I laughed, "You look splendid."

John cleared his throat, "Now I was wondering-"

"Yeah?"

"Do we have to _talk_ like we are in the Victorian era?"

"Oh god, no." I responded, "Just talk like you regularly do. But, um don't let anything slip about cell phones and stuff like that."

"Do I look okay?" A voice suddenly called from the other side of the room.

"Sherlock! Wow…" John said staring at his colleague with almost hungry eyes. And I didn't blame him. Seeing Sherlock in the late Victorian era clothes somehow just felt… right. He wore gray pants, a black vest, a black overcoat, a black tie and a black top hat. Even though the colors were rather drab it still suited him.

"Alright," I smiled, clapping my hands together, "Let's go get my husband back."

The Doctor opened the TARDIS's door, "After you."

I smiled and stepped into the cool air of November 7th, 1891.


	22. Chapter 22

Chapter Twenty-Two

"This is impossible, insane, absurd."

"Quit starring, John." I hushed.

"But, I mean, we are in 1891. Like actual 1891. This… this is unimaginable!"

"Welcome to my world."

"Can you also make the box go to the future?"

I nodded. "All the time."

"So this is what you do? Travel the through time?"

"And space."

"Do you, like, have a regular life as well?"

"Well, of course. I mean, it is a time machine, right? I can go anywhere I want and still Like, the night before my wedding lasted at least three months. That included a diferent points in time where Rory was dead, plastic and didn't exist."

John raised an eyebrow, "I don't even want to know."

"Trust me, you don't."

"So what do you do, exactly?"

"Well, Rory's a nurse. I'm a journalist for the most part."

"For the most part?"

"I've sort of been trying my hand at modeling recently."

John smirked. "I can see why."

"Slow down there, big boy." I laughed, "I'm married."

"Hate to intrude, but I have a quick question." Sherlock cut in, speaking for the first time since we'd entered the Victorian era.

"Yeah?" I asked. He looked at me awkwardly. I still think he didn't like the idea that everything he knew was wrong.

"Just… how exactly do you expect to find Rory? We're in _London_. He could be anywhere."

"Trust me when I say Rory isn't exactly a hermit. Someone's got know him. There has to be some sort of record of him."

"That's all we have to go on? What are we supposed to do? Just ask around?"

"Calm down there, Sherlock." The Doctor sighed. "I have a better idea." He pulled out his sonic screwdriver. "This beautiful piece of equipment can find him easy. Before he left I gave a device that gives of a signal that attracts my sonic."

"Your sonic?" Sherlock asked.

"My sonic screwdriver. I think it's cool." John and I shared a look. The Doctor didn't seem to notice. Instead he happily spun in a circle and stopped when you the sonic started buzzing.

"East!" He cried triumphantly. "Rory is somewhere East!"

"So basically we're playing a glorified version of the hot and cold game?" John asked.

"Yeah, Basically." I gave him a small shrug. "Let's go find my husband."


	23. Chapter 23

Chapter Twenty-Three

"So this is it?" I asked entering the room. It was a small reception room, a steampunk doctor's office. How ironic.

"The signal ends here." The Doctor said, glaring at his screwdriver. "Rory's device-y signal-ly thing must be here somewhere."

"Hello?" A voice called. It was a girl, about twenty years old, dressed in a fluffy, navy blue dress. "Do you have an appointment?"

"An appointment?" I asked, "An appointment with who?"

"The doctor, of course." She gave us a pleasant smile.

I glanced at Sherlock. He rolled his eyes, "Would that, perchance, be Doctor Williams?"

"Well who else?" She gave us a strange look, "Do you have an appointment or not?"

"Yes, I believe we do," Sherlock told her.

"I'll go alert Dr. Williams." She smiled and rang a small bell from under her desk and a whole ring echoed throughout the building.

Thirty seconds later a man in a long brown coat, velvet vest and brown tie emerged from the back room, his nose buried in a book.

"Thank you, Teresa." He mumbled quietly. My heart swelled with longing and terror. There stood my husband, looking like he always did… yet somehow different. How long had he been here? Long enough to set up shop as a Doctor. A Doctor! He had always dreamed of becoming more than a nurse. And here he was, achieving his goals. In 1891. And I had come to rescue him with a twenty-first century Sherlock Holmes and John Watson. And we were in a parallel universe. When did my life become this ridiculous?

Nevermind that now, I could ponder the strangeness of my adulthood later. Right now I needed to focus on my husband.

Impatiently, I cleared my throat. He still hadn't looked up from his book. He still stayed in the pages. "Rory?" I asked softly, hoping it would shock him enough to look up for a second. It did.

He glanced up from a second, tearing his eyes from the page. They widened with surprise. "Sherlock!? Doctor, John!" He didn't say my name. Why didn't he say _my_ name?

"It seems you have been here for quite a while." Sherlock said stiffly.

Rory nodded, "You have no idea." He quickly glanced at his secretary. "Teresa you can take a break. No, actually, take the rest of the day off. Close down the office. I'll be a while."

She nodded happily, her pretty face bobbing up and down. I shot of jealousy shot through me. How long had he been here? Had he gotten bored? How had he met Teresa? Were they a _thing_? Would he do that? Was that why he didn't acknowledge me? Because he was guilty?

But Rory didn't seem to notice my realization. Instead he gave us a wide smile a muttered, "I think you should probably come to the back."


	24. Chapter 24

Chapter Twenty-Four

"So what have you got for us, Rory the Roman?" The Doctor said happily.

"Rory, how long have you been here?" I asked softly.

He didn't look at me. "I got here in April. That was seven months ago." His eyes stayed on everyone else but not me. Never me. Why not me?

"Seven months in Victorian London and what do you do? You become a Doctor!" The Doctor said happily, "I'm honored."

Rory shook his head and grinned, "Oh, it's good to see you. It's been very, um, lonely here. I did miss you." He directed this at the Doctor? Why the Doctor? Why not me? Did he not miss me? Was he to busy off having fun with _Teresa_?

"So, Rory were you able to accomplish anything in your little field trip to the past?" Sherlock asked, growing bored with the small talk.

"Yes, actually." He rummaged through his stuff and finally pulled out a small suitcase. Slowly, he undid the latches. It opened with a click and he whirled it around so it could face us. Inside was his phone, his watch, his jacket, a small vile, a thin silver dagger and a small gem.

"Boom." He let out a small, proud smile, "That jacket- it's an object that the angels sent back in time. The gem- one of the oldest. Ancient Egyptian jewel, on display at a museum in town. Luckily the security here isn't exactly top notch. Easy enough to steal, anyway."

"Look at you! Rory the Roman! Well, Rory the Roman jewel thief." The Doctor laughed, "I Like this new side of you." He snatched up the gem and started playing with it.

"Right, um, well… anyway! The knife. So, um, when the angel sent me back, I slashed her with the knife. It cut the Angel! Therefore, we can use it. And it looks cooler than the rock." He held up the dagger and spun it around in his hand. "Much cooler," he mumbled under his breath. Was he implying something?

"And what's the last object?" John asked, "In that vile thingy."

"That' the kiss. Or at least, the Doctor's version of the kiss." Rory told him, "The air in the 'vortex,' all bottled up. Though I don't really see how that's a kiss, but," he shrugged,"Who knows?"

"The meaning of kiss in Leretoen is very close to the meaning of air. Lereto is right next to Morengray. I assumed that the saying might have a double meaning." The Doctor responded happily.

"So what's left?" John asked.

"A bunch of mirrors and pure silver." Sherlock responded immediately, "It'll be easy enough."

"Alright, good." Rory murmured. "Very good."

"Alright, let's get back to the TARDIS!" The Doctor said happily.

"Wait." I spoke, making all of the men pause. "May I speak to my husband please? Alone?"


	25. Chapter 25

Chapter Twenty-Five

Rory looked at me awkwardly. John eyed the two of us. "Sure, Amy. We'll just… wait in the other room." The three guys cleared out leaving the two of us alone.

I cleared my throat and got straight to the point. "Why have you been avoiding me?"

"What?" Rory laughed, seemingly taken by surprise. "Amy I haven't been _avoiding_ you."

"Oh come on!" I yelled angrily, "You won't even look at me. You haven't seen me in seven months- _seven months!_ \- and I haven't even heard so much as a hello. I'm your wife! And when I come here there's a pretty girl in your office and she's your _receptionist_. Seems like reason enough for you to avoid me."

"Teresa?" Rory asked, looking pissed, "Are you implying that I was cheating on you with _Teresa_?" He laughed and put his hand on his forehead. "Amy! She's a child! I'm married, Amy. To you! Teresa just works for me. And Amy," He grabbed my shoulders, "Look at me. I would never, ever, cheat on you. You're a catch." He grinned.

My cheeks turned red. "But.. But why have you been avoiding me?"

"Oh… um… well I guess you were gonna find out eventually, anyway." Rory sighed.

"What do you mean?" I asked.

He took of his jacket and pulled up his shirt so that his lower back was exposed. There, in smooth wavy letters, was the tattoo _You Only Live Once._ "I… I was at a pub with some buddies… and I got really drunk and…"

I laughed, " _This_ is why you've been avoiding me? A YOLO tattoo?"

Rory's cheeks turned a furious red, "I thought you wouldn't like it."

"Rory, you stupid head. I don't give a damn about a dumb tattoo that you got when you were drunk in 1891. Yes, I would prefer it not be a YOLO tattoo, but there is nothing we can do now. And if it really bothers you that much, we can get it removed when we get back home."

"Really?"

"Yes, ya idiot. God, what did you think I was going to do? Murder you for getting all tatted up. It's the nineteenth century for god's sake!"

Rory laughed and then planted a firm kiss on my lips. I smiled and gave him a tight hug. "I guess we were both a bit paranoid." He told me, pulling out of my grasp.

"Yeah. Come on, let's go." I started walking toward the door.

"I'm gonna miss this place," he mumbled. "Being a doctor really isn't that bad."

"Well, we can work on that when we get home." I told him, "But currently, we've got to help Sherlock Holmes and John Watson rid themselves of the Weeping Angels."

Rory shook his head, "I have been waiting seven months to hear you say that."

I opened the office door. "Good."

The Doctor looked up at the two of us. "Everything all sorted out?" We nodded. "Good. Great. Splendid! I heard screaming. I don't like screaming. Anyway, I propose we go back to the TARDIS, hitch a ride back to the early 2000's and tell the Angel's to get their own plant."

Rory smiled, "Sounds like a plan to me."


	26. Chapter 26

Chapter Twenty-Six

The familiar sound of the TARDIS engine flooded my ears as I gripped Rory's hand. "Alright." The Doctor cheered, his eyes bright with a childish energy. "Who's ready to get rid of some weeping angels." None of us answered. "None of you our very fun." He wrinkled his nose. "Not very fun at all."

I rolled my eyes and squeezed Rory's hand tighter.

"So." John said, nearing us. "Seven months in 1891. Does that occur… _a lot_ … with you three."

I laughed, "More or less."

"Right." John responded, glancing at his feet. He wasn't used to receiving a taciturn answer. Before I could elaborate the Doctor let out a small whoop and slammed down on an oddly shaped button.

"We've landed!" The he cheered. Sherlock sighed and pushed on the door and it swung open to a semi-familiar scene of John and Sherlock's flat. But something was out of place. In the center of the room stood a ruffled looking man with graying hair and a semi-vacant, semi-shocked expression on his face.

"Who the hell are you?" He asked, glaring at me. "What the hell was that? What the hell just happened. Sherlock, what the hell is going on?"

Sherlock gave a deep sigh. "Ah, you see, Gary-"

"It's Greg!" John called from inside the TARDIS.

"Right, Greg. Look, this isn't what it seems like."

John, Rory and the Doctor came out of the TARDIS, letting the door close behind them. 'Greg's' eyes grew wider.

"How did you all fit in there?" He asked.

Without responding, the Doctor walked up to Greg, pointing his sonic screwdriver in every which way and crinkling his nose. "Who are you?"

"My name is Greg Lestrade, from Scotland Yard. Sir, may I ask you what the hell is that thing?"

The Doctor's frown disappeared into his usual puppy smile. "Lestrade! Oh I know you from the… the… oh nevermind." He put his hand into Lestrade's and gave it a firm shake. "I'm the Doctor, nice to meet you. And the other two are my friends, Amy and Rory."

"Hi." I said, giving a little wave.

"But, the… the box. It just…" He waved his hands around, staring intently at the TARDIS. "... appeared. That's not usual is it?" He furrowed his eyebrows together and gave Sherlock a quizzical look.

"Lestrade…" John muttered, "This isn't what it seems."

"Really?" Lestrade scoffed, "How could you possibly explain this? I mean box literally just appeared in your flat. And five people popped out of it! Sherlock, if I don't get an explanation soon, I'm going to have to-"

"You know about all the kidnappings?" I cut in.

"Yeah?" He said, halting his ongoing monologue, "They're just random disappearances, not kidnappings.

I looked him, straight in the eye. "They're not random."


End file.
